Love comes with a knife,
not some shy question,
and not with fears for its reputation.
I say these things disinterestedly.
Accept them in kind.
Love is a madman,
working his wild schemes,
tearing off his clothes,
drinking poison, and now quietly
choosing annihilation.
A tiny spider tries to wrap
an enormous wasp. Think of the spiderweb
woven across the cave where Muhammed slept.
There are love stories,
and there is obliteration into love.
You have been walking the ocean's edge,
holding up your robes to keep them dry.
You must dive deeper under,
a thousand times deeper.
